The Witching Hour


"What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from."

~ T.S. Eliot

I watched with wide brown eyes, breath caught up in my throat. I'd never, ever expected anything like this, nothing this … spectacular, all-enclosing, that wrapped around my middle and pulled me too it. I wanted this, more than anything else, and I knew this with a sudden finality. This was amazing. I wanted in, as they'd asked of me. I wanted to be taken under their wing, as they were so willing to do. I wanted to be accepted. I wanted to be part of something bigger than myself. Being me, that was hard to ask for.

But with these girls, I knew it was about to be accomplished.

One would have thought that growing up with the people I did, learning the existence of witches would not surprise me - that nothing on this earth could faze me, but this did. This was surprising, after all I'd seen, werewolves and vampires and half-breeds, this was the existence of yet another species – another world that I wanted a part in.

My dad would be mad, after warning me. So would my mom, and grandfather. I wondered vaguely about my Aunts and Uncles, and about my grandmother.

I wondered about Jacob.

But none of this mattered now. This was about me, for once, and not about them.

And that was how the end began.